The Dawn Chorus.

I was stumbling about the garden at four o'clock in the morning today. Four o'clock in the morning? Four? I jest not. And on a Sunday, I might add further. This does seem to be the behaviour of a man strange or confused (a fair assertion against me usually), but on this occasion I had a reason.

With the warmth and light of May, spring has completed its beautiful envelopment of the garden. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the wilder areas of the Estate where it goes unchecked: the trees have burst with damp fresh leaves and in their dappled light the grasses are lush, flecked with the colours of wildflowers and butterflies. Birdsong rises as nests are made in the ever-deepening greenery - and during the dewy tranquillity of today's dawn I tramped in, to listen to its chorus.

I was not alone - indeed, this was an event specially organised by the RHS for those seeking to learn more of the calls and whistles drifting from tree canopies and hedgerows in spring, and the birds they belong to. Twenty arrived, patiently led by a sharp-eared and (perhaps more important for me at four in the morning) softly-spoken man by the name of Neil from the Essex Wildlife Trust. With his knowledge and direction, I could hear cuckoos, blackcaps, goldfinches, and even witnessed a whitethroat gathering twigs for a nest. I didn't know what a whitethroat was before this morning, but I do now. The charming thing about such a long morning was the chance to give each bird several minutes, until every person present was eventually smiling and nodding. Moreover, the more familiar fauna of Hyde Hall - the hares, pheasants and waterfowl - seemed to appreciate that at such a time of day we were far too sleepy to cause them any disturbance, meaning we could view them closer than usual before they slipped away. A wholly enchanting experience that I shall remember and repeat. I might bring a flask next time though!